


Healing Takes Time

by anneshathagay



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 07:16:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15724578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anneshathagay/pseuds/anneshathagay
Summary: Villanelle reflects on everything after being stabbed and Eve isn't that far behind.





	Healing Takes Time

That wasn’t supposed to happen.

Out of every possibility there was, being stabbed by one of the only people she let herself be vulnerable with wasn’t what she expected.

Villanelle practically limps out the door of the apartment, her hand pressed tightly against the stab wound, trying desperately to stop the bleeding. The pain, both physical and mental, becoming unbearable by the second.

The one time she was willing to take a chance on someone, the one time she opened herself up to someone and let her guard down, it ended up backfiring on her and almost costing her life.

Villanelle trusted Eve. There was just something she did to her that no one else could. Eve made her submissive and feel actually  _ human  _ in a way.

It’s the big cliche but Villanelle never felt normal. When you looked at her, she always seemed numb and emotionless. That’s what made her so good at her job. You can’t be  _ that  _ good of an assassin if you feel remorse for your victims.

You can’t feel remorse if you feel nothing to begin with.

Villanelle did have feelings though. She just never allowed herself to let them show. Growing up, it was considered weak. And God knows how hard growing up for her was.

After what happened with Eve, she’ll think twice before ever being vulnerable with someone again. It never leads to anything good for her.

In her mind, no one genuinely cared about her. It seemed like it didn’t affect her but it did. Everyone just took advantage of her until she wasn’t of use to them anymore.

That’s why Villanelle taught herself the art of indifference.

To people, she had all the emotion of wet concrete, her facial muscles just as loose. There was no anger, no sadness, no joy or resentment.

After wandering around for a while, Villanelle finally finds a safe and secluded area she could stay in to take a breather.

She places her hand on her chest, the hand coated in her own blood, and she can still feel the frigid cold surrounding her heart so she knows it’s at least still there, but she can’t feel it beating anymore.

Some say you find purpose in the simplicity of your heartbeat. But Villanelle no longer knows where her purpose lies. She’s just afraid. She’s afraid of going completely numb, but she’s also afraid of feeling. Because, quite frankly, feeling hurts. Feeling is what makes you go numb in the first place.

Every breath she takes now is filled with the icy air of her heart. It pains her so much as it spreads the cold blood through her veins. The coldness of her heart blurs her vision, rimming everything in red.

She feels angry, all the time. She could punch a hole in a wall and turn a table over. But she can’t, she simply sits there, letting the numbness and anger take her.

The blood concentrates in the folds of her knuckles, making the usually pale creases dark. The congealed red brown fluid becomes caught in the webbing of her fingers.

A wave of pain suddenly washes over her.

It’s the worst burning sensation she had ever felt, even worse than actually being burned.

Villanelle's throat gurgles as she struggles to breathe, spitting blood. Her body is shaking and she’s sweating. Slowly breathing hard, she drags herself into a sitting position, hand clutching her side as an electric shock from the wound goes through her body.

For a second, she feels too weak to continue, her head falls and leans against a wall.

Eventually, the pain settles into a sort of sharp throbbing, like someone poking her repeatedly with a burning stick.

That someone being Eve.

Villanelle puts a hand over her mouth, the other rigidly clutching her shirt, her eyelids shut so tightly they begin to fidget and shudder from the bullish force.

She can’t take it anymore.

Villanelle cries silent tears that run past her plump, red cheeks and over her knuckles until finally dripping onto the floor with as much a sound as the woman's hushed agony.

She’s done being afraid to show her emotions.

Her silent weeping is worse than a tantrum or screaming.

Her eyes well up with all that pent up sadness she’s been holding in for so long.

Brick by brick, her walls come tumbling down.

Villanelle just breaks down.

The sobs punch through, ripping through her muscles, bones, and guts.

She presses her forehead against the wall and begins to let her heart yank in and out of her chest.

She feels hollow.

Suddenly, Eve is there, patting and rubbing her back.

Then, Villanelle sobs into Eve’s chest unceasingly, hands clutching at her jacket.

Eve just holds her in silence, rocking her slowly as her tears soak her chest.

Villanelle pulls away for a second, blinking lashes heavy with tears, before she collapses again, her cries worsening.

The pain comes in waves, minutes of sobbing broken apart by short pauses for recovering breaths, before going back in.

Eve wraps an arm around Villanelle’s shoulders and pulls her close, gently rubbing her arm.

Despite the heaviness in her stomach and everything that went down, it fluttered at the feeling of her body pressed against hers.

Villanelle sunk into the warmth of Eve’s side, appreciative of the simple gesture.

“You’re gonna be okay,” Eve breathes out. “It’ll take time but I just want you to know you don’t have to hide your feelings away anymore. This sounds crazy. This whole situation is crazy and you may not trust me after what happened but… I’m with you.”

Two simple words with a lot more meaning behind them come out of Villanelle’s mouth.

“Thank you.”


End file.
